


Arcana: Seven of Wands

by Oldine



Series: Birches Grow [19]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldine/pseuds/Oldine
Summary: A friend of Jack's contacts him about a blackmail scheme involving a wealthy London family. It leads Jack's team to take over a cult. Rex deals with a different situation involving a demolition gone wrong.





	1. Cory Lynch

**Author's Note:**

> I realized just now that I got Rex's name wrong. I need to go back through the stories and fix it.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

Lao Tzu

 

** (cemetery); Outside London, England **

** Tuesday, March 2, 2021 **

Cory Lynch walked along a row of trees he used for a landmark. He called the caretaker as always to make sure the family wasn’t around. They rarely made an appearance. While he’d never be ashamed of his relationship with Jonas, his granddaughters didn’t need to know about it. 

Cory set the flowers against the tombstone under Lucille’s name. He never met her, but he’d heard a lot of Lucy stories. As Jonas told it, she was a selfless angel. She married Jonas knowing he preferred men and stood by him for thirty years. 

Cory rested a hand on the marble above Jonas’ name. They’d met by chance one afternoon in the grocery store. Fifty-eight years old and he had no idea how to shop for food. His mother instructed the staff during his childhood. After he had married Lucy at eighteen, she took over. Their housekeeper managed the house after Lucy died. When she retired, due to her health, it was a wonder Jonas survived.

“I thought of you at the store yesterday.” Even after eight years, the tears welled in Cory’s eyes. “They had a sale display for your favorite biscuits.”

He and Jonas had what others called an unconventional relationship. Thirty-eight years separated their ages. Loneliness was the only thing they truly had in common. Cory barely had enough to eat that day in the grocery store. Jonas came from generations of money. It worked for two years. Jonas taught him everything he needed to know about society and business and gave him the money to survive without him.

“I’m planning one of those garden parties you hated. Silly decorations and pretentious food.” Cory stared off remembering the first event he planned for Jonas. “With dogs and kids, I shouldn’t have to explain that expensive china is a bad idea.”

“Did your office call?” Sheldon Robards asked.

Cory took a moment to compose himself before turning to face Jonas’ oldest son. “No.”

They met at the funeral. The funeral Cory planned because Jonas’ children didn’t have time. They didn’t care he existed until the will was read. Then all of a sudden, Cory found himself accused of everything their lawyers could invent. Before the civil suit ended, Jonas’ attorney proved the children were greedy liars who hadn’t cared about their father until it was time to pick over his legacy like vultures.

“You brought flowers for my mother?” Sheldon sounded confused. 

Cory suspected Sheldon never considered doing it himself. “For the last ten years. I bring her irises on the anniversary of Jonas’ death, and have a standing order for sunflowers on her birthday.” Cory wiped at the tears. “What do you want?”

Sheldon hesitated, looking much like he did the day the judge ordered him to apologize. “I need your help. My youngest is in trouble.”

 

** Lynch Event Planning; London, England **

Hosting a Robards family meeting was not the highlight of his week. Cory called his office to warn them. He rarely did damage control and not at the office. But he knew better than to trust any of the Robards. While they occasionally supported each other, as they did during the lawsuit over the will, they had more in common with rabid dogs than family.

“How many?” Forest sounded uneasy.

“I don’t know. If any attorneys show up, the meeting isn’t happening.”

When Cory parked in his reserved space, there were four unfamiliar, luxury vehicles in the car park. The fire engine red, midlife crisis convertible belonged to Sheldon. He stared at the Ferrari briefly. The only Robards with that taste in cars was Jonas’ younger brother William. That made Cory wonder. William didn’t like his nieces and nephews anymore than Cory did.

Forest met him in the entryway looking pale. “There are ten Robards in the big conference room.” He handed over a notebook and pen. “Sherburne Robards.”

That was a level of bad Cory hadn’t considered. “No interruptions.” He met Jonas’ father briefly at the funeral. He was a hundred years old, never left his family’s large estate, and was one of the richest men in Europe. He had more pull than the prime minister.

Cory’s heart raced as he headed down the hall. In eight years since the family found out about him, he’d never had a problem with the family patriarch. He suspected one of his first referrals came from Jonas’ father. Even then he knew better than to ask those types of questions.

With as much confidence as he could fake, he opened the conference room door and stepped inside. Four generations of the family that once tried to destroy him over a small percentage of their inheritance sat at the table. He once coordinated a society wedding between two organized crime families. That was easier than sitting at one end of the large, oval table and facing the Robards.

“What happened?”

“Tessa joined a cult,” Sherburne said bluntly from the other end of the table. 

Extortion, brainwashing or both, Cory thought. “Does the cult know who she is?”

“I received a letter demanding money with photographs.”

“Did they threaten to hurt Tessa or release the pictures?”

“This is ridiculous,” Belinda, Sheldon’s wife, declared as she stood.

Sherburne responded coolly. “Sit down.” He waited until she sat. “If we pay, they will demand more money. If we do not pay, they will hurt her as an example to others.”

Cory flipped opened the notebook. “I need the location, names of any cult leaders, and any other families that might have received letters.”

“What can you do?” William asked quietly, sitting next to his father.

“It depends on the specifics.” 

 

Calling the police would result in a media circus. Even if he called one of his contacts, the result would be the same. It would leak. A sex scandal involving the Robards would be tabloid gold, and even officers would be tempted to risk their jobs.

Cory had one favor to call in that wouldn’t result in a media leak. It might end in a three-ring circus, but a very different type. Technically, he was bartering an emergency call involving an assassination attempt against Jack’s son. That was tasteless. But other young people were in danger. He could sell it if he had to.

Using a burner phone with a few interesting apps, he called.

“Harkness.”

“Hey. I have a situation that isn’t Torchwood jurisdiction, but if it makes the evening news, people could die.” Cory explained the cult, extortion letter, and the complications of calling the police. “I was hoping you could check out the situation quietly.”

“Have you seen the letter and pictures?” Jack asked.

“No. I’m not asking a man to show me indecent pictures of his daughter.”

“It could be a con.”

Cory rolled his eyes. “Do you remember my friend Jonas?” It was how they met. “It’s his family.”

Jack hesitated. “The Robards asked you for help?”

“Yeah. Sherburne and William are in my conference room with Jonas’ kids.”

“What do you know about the missing woman?”

“Not much. Tessa was a kid when Jonas died.”


	2. John Hart

** Saint David’s Mall; Cardiff, Wales **

One of the many frustrations of Ken’s hospitalization, John Hart thought, was buying presents. Anwen reminded him unhappily that Trefor’s birthday was yesterday. He’d overheard Jack and Ianto discussing plans, but didn’t think much about it. Gwen didn’t like him buying Anwen presents. He had no idea how she’d react to one for Trefor.

As John stepped into the toy store, the ridiculousness of the situation was the forefront of his mind. His girlfriend in 2049 sent him back in time to protect herself although he wasn’t sure about anyone’s motivation anymore. The general repeatedly referred to him as a rabid dog and didn’t approve of the five-year relationship. Now he was expected to buy the younger version of the general a present. John reminded himself the boy didn’t judge him.

“Can I help you?” The young clerk asked.

John smiled. “I need to buy a present for a friend’s son.”

“How old?”

“Four. He likes blocks.”

Following her down the aisle, he couldn’t help but admire the view. One more absurdity to add to the pile. He recalled the sound of his Anwen’s laughter. He had a thing for toy store clerks. The women crouched down to remove a yellow bucket from a lower shelf, and his reaction annoyed him.

“We’re having a sale on board games.” She smiled up at him.

“He has a lot.” John didn’t want to explain Trefor and board games. The kid could beat him at Backgammon already.

It occurred to him as he carried the bucket that the woman was flirting with him and he hadn’t noticed immediately. His head wasn’t on straight. Making it worse, he had second thoughts about turning down her mobile number annoyed him. Ken deserved better than that.

John’s mobile rang. “What?”

“Bad day?” Jack asked.

Bad life, John thought. “I was flirting with this cute clerk at the mall. You interrupted.”

“We have a place to check out.”

 

** Path of Tangled Briers Retreat; north of Brighton, England **

As John listened to Jack explain the situation, he wondered why the name Robards sounded familiar. He didn’t remember a religious retreat near South Downs National Park. Nothing on the website looked familiar. Except the general cult recruiting basics. The con was the same no matter what planet he was on.

“What are we telling these people?” John asked after they were already heading north on A23 in an old car from Brighton PD impound.

“We need life assistance. They target the homeless and low income in Brighton. The Torchwood programs to empty the shelters aren’t religious. It makes predatory pseudo-churches appealing.”

“Is Masterson resolving that?” John still had trouble wrapping his mind around Rex being in charge of Torchwood.

“What’s wrong?”

“I dreamed of Anwen, my Anwen, last night. The way she looked near the end in 2049.” John exhaled loudly. It felt like her ghost was disappointed with him.

“Correctly reestablishing the Institute will take time.”

John understood that part. “If she knew Masterson was running Torchwood in London, she’d come back from the grave to kick his arse out.”

“Have you ever known the Keara at Global to make a significant tactical error?” Jack asked.

John looked at him. “What?”

“Keara approached the prime minister and demanded the rebuild.”

“Yeah. You’re supposed to be in charge.”

Jack smiled. “Rex is better with bureaucrats than I am.”

“Except Keara knew Anwen hated him and why.” 

“Was Rex working for Torchwood or the CIA when he made that judgment error?”

John shook his head. He’d had enough of psychics and temporal manipulation. “Does this place target addicts?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the biggest drug problem in this area?” 

As they reached the public car park, they had cover stories. The created them as close to themselves as they could to make for simplicity. Commitment issues, promiscuity, drug addiction. Two disillusioned adults, having midlife crises, needing a peaceful place to get their heads on straight. 

“We need to figure out the situation and resolve it quietly,” Jack emphasized.

An idea came to mind as John reviewed his cover story one last time. “If Torchwood can’t compete with these places, maybe we need to take them over instead of shutting them down.”

Jack looked at him like he’d lost it.

John held out his hands. “Aman or Azrael or whatever he’s calling himself has extensive experience with cults. Unlike most cult leaders, he doesn’t abuse his followers. He considers them his responsibility.” He paused. “That would have a better chance of resolving the situation than shutting this place down."

“I’m not sure he’s mentally stable after the transformation.”

“Are we mentally stable?”

 

The set-up was impressive, John thought, as the cute man explained the services offered. Reception probably concluded he was gay. His guide was attractive and subtly flirting with him. After the embarrassment with the clerk, he was paying more attention which probably made him appear receptive.

“Where are the rehab services?” John focused on Ken’s approach to needing help. 

“We approach addiction as a lack of spiritual strength,” Lydell said. “Rather than subject a person to a stressful ordeal, we offer guidance to finding inner peace.”

John nodded thoughtfully wondering what that meant. “What is your success rate?”

From the Lydell’s expression, he hadn’t expected the question. 

“I’ve failed a few times.”

“We can help you.” Lydell held out his hand.

John realized his mistake the moment his skin touched Lydell. The blue energy flared. The younger man stared wide-eyed at him.

“You’re one of the chosen.”

“You know what the blue light is?” John didn’t need to fake confusion. 

Lydell nodded. “It’s a gift from the gods.”

Azrael would have fun with this place. “I had a nightmare. Hands grabbed me and dragged me into the ground.” It had something to do with the alchemy explosion last summer.

“It’s the initiation.” Lydell paused. “You’re still an addict?”

“Yeah.” With the fused Nanogenes he couldn’t get drunk or high, but it didn’t resolve the urge. Recovery would be an ongoing process.

“The awakening is supposed to cure weakness.”

“Maybe I have to know how it works.” 

“You need to speak with the prophet.” 

John kept from groaning. “Prophet?”

 

Lydell led across the expansive lawn to a wooden gate with a path of garden stepping stones beyond it. They waited. John didn’t see a security system. There was a spotter, or someone could sense them. 

A woman wearing a white robe walked toward the gate. The serene expression couldn’t hide the rigid posture. She eyed him across the fence. “Who are you?”

“John.” He suspected that wasn’t the question she was asking.

“Which divinity do you serve?”

“I don’t understand.” The only time he’d heard the term divinity was in reference to Oldaria’s sister.

She held out her hand and closed her eyes. “That’s unusual.” When she opened them again, she looked puzzled. “You’re not marked.”

John wondered what that meant. Then he remembered Ianto had two spirit marks over his heart. 

“What can you do?”

“My eyes glow.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What is your gift?”

“I came here to discuss rehab, not the nightmares or the curse.”

“Curse?” She took offense. “You’re divinely blessed.”


	3. Azrael

** Torchwood Nigeria; Sokoto State, Nigeria **

Idrissa Oliveira entered the meditation room. He could sense Aman, but couldn’t see him. He’d given up trying to call his husband Azrael. The ridiculous alias wasn’t helping his state of mind. Pacing invisible in a public meditation room was more evidence of that.

“What’s wrong?”

He shimmered like a mirage. “I can not materialize completely.”

Idrissa took a moment. “It does not matter.”

“I can not touch you.”

“It is not important,” Idrissa assured.

“I should not have come back.”

Idrissa approached the shimmer. “I love you. For better or worse.”

The air shook. “Until death do us part. I am not alive.”

“You are,” Idrissa stated firmly. “Sex does not matter, Aman. When I thought I lost you, all I wanted was you back home again.”

“You are frustrated.”

“Show yourself, please.”

Aman materialized a few feet from him. 

“I do not want to be with anyone else.”

“You were tempted,” Aman said sadly. “If I did not reveal myself, you would have found someone.”

Idrissa briefly wondered how Aman found out about Matt. That had been nothing more than physical attraction. Based on something the younger version of his husband said, he suspected Matt had some type of psychic ability that helped people around him see parts of themselves.

“I did find someone.” Idrissa gave it a moment. “I love you. No matter what name you chose. No matter what physical form you have. I love you. That will not change.”

“I am no longer a man.”

“The explosion changed your body. It did not change who you are.”

Aman walked over and touched Idrissa’s face with his fingertips. It tingled. “You deserve better.”

“Better than a guardian angel?” Idrissa tried and could not keep a straight face.

After a moment, Aman smiled. “I do not deserve you.”

Idrissa’s mobile rang. He closed his eyes. Few people called. It was probably a Torchwood emergency.

“Answer it, liefde.”

“Yes,” Idrissa said. “What?” After listening again, he switched to speakerphone.

“Azrael?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

“John and I are at a religious retreat north of Brighton, England. It’s a combination of alternative medicine healing facility for some type of psychics similar to Rift abilities. We need someone who can show something magical to assert authority. John killed one of their leaders in self-defense. Their prophet fled.”

“Magical?”

“Meet us here, and we’ll discuss the details.”

 

** Path of Tangled Briers Retreat; north of Brighton, England **

Azrael found chaos. Scared, panicked people ran or hid. He walked across the expansive lawn focusing on Jack’s quantum signature. Even with the strange energy permeating the area, Jack was unique. Azrael still remembered the man he knew and cared for, vividly. That version of was gone, or Azrael would seek his counsel. Jack knew what it was like to be different. He somehow survived being stranded in the past and forced to endure a culture that would never accept him.

Jack and John sought cover behind a maintenance shed. Seeing them together was unusual. The Jack he knew would never have forgiven John. Not after everything.

Azrael materialized crouching beside them. “Why are you here?”

Jack gave a quick summary of the Robards situation. “There are several people drugged in a basement. I found additional blackmail material.”

“The blackmailers are dead?”

“Not yet. These kids are scared. Like your psychics, they came here seeking peace and a purpose. We disrupted that.”

Azrael nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

“They need a religious experience. Something miraculous,” John said. “A shimmering figure of light.”

“An angel?”

“Not specific to Christianity,” Jack said. “No halo or harp.”

Azrael shook his head. “You owe me, Jack.”

“There is a gate with garden stepping stones lining the walkway through the trees. You need to start there.”

 

Creating the absurd illusion took a few minutes. Azrael rarely used any form other than what he looked like at the time of the explosion. Light required more effort than a different human image. As the glowing androgynous shape formed, he couldn’t help but wondered if it was the most outlandish thing Jack ever asked him to do. 

Feeling ridiculous, Azrael stepped through the gate and walked across the lawn. He stopped near the center of the large grassy area hoping to attract attention quickly. It didn’t take long before the panic faded. They needed something to believe in and witnesses what they perceived as a miracle. Men and women, young and old, slowly approached him. Others farther away called to one another and jogged closer. 

When people turned to a cult for answers, they didn’t want to think for themselves. They were drawn to a strong, charismatic personality who promised them a better life, access to the divine, or paradise in the afterlife. Lost and broken, they didn’t want to think for themselves anymore. Some were weak. Some needed hope. They needed a safe place, and potentially someone to protect them from their demons.

“I am the truth. The people who brought you here lost their way. They sought power for personal gain, and have fled from their responsibilities. I will find a prophet worthy of you. Do not fear. You have not been abandoned.”

Evidence of the unfortunate impact of unethical leadership, the people dropped to their knees. Even those with physical problems struggled to bow. They were willing to worship any con artist presenting a light show. Even if his pseudo-miracle was more convincing than most. 

“Who among you is prepared to stand up and manage the mundane chores of your home. You must see to your health and wellbeing. The new prophet will guide your spiritual journey. But physical needs must be met.”

Unable to see their value they’d panicked at the possibility of having to make their decisions. For their leader, they could and would do things they wouldn’t otherwise. The sheep volunteered to tend their flock at his prompting. A few probably participated in holding fellow members hostage and sending hideous pictures to their families because their leader said it was necessary for whatever reason. He simply needed to alter the programming.

“This is your family. Anyone telling you to hurt your family lies. The people outside this community may not understand you. That does not make them bad. They do not understand different.” Azrael gave it a moment. “To find peace, you must want peace. To find love, you must love.”

Azrael glowed brighter and disappeared suddenly. 

From their expressions, he got through to them. They stood and helped those that needed help standing. It was not the healthiest approach to deprogramming whatever monstrosity they had been fed. But it would solve the problem for the time being. Jack needed to find a new leader.


	4. Rex Matheson

** Temporary Torchwood Office; London, England **

Dealing with European politicians was similar to their US counterparts. All were egotistical, self-important men and women with skewed priorities. They argued like small children and behaved like teenagers. He insulted my policy change. She said a dirty (medically appropriate) word. And whichever side of the pond, the family values proponents were the most likely to be chasing their secretaries or their best friend’s spouse or meeting strangers for sex in bathrooms. After weeks in London, he had enough information to blackmail people in several countries easily. At the CIA, it would have been a gold mine. 

Rex Matheson stood outside for a few minutes. He had no doubt why Jack let him have the job without an argument. It was boring and stressful. Rex, unfortunately, understood the concept “going postal.” He would have an ulcer by the end of the year.

“Bad day?” An unfamiliar woman asked. 

“Yeah.” He turned to face the gorgeous woman wearing a power suit.

“I’m Davinia Delagarza, Mr. Matheson. I work for Delagarza Construction.”

One of the companies arguing for the right to bid on Torchwood London’s construction. He’d repeatedly explained they were using robotic labor for security reasons and not to save money. Neither the companies nor the unions listened. They had no idea General Williams would build the entire campus in a day. The Keara at Global provided the layout.

“Ma’am.”

“We understand you plan on building employee housing near Torchwood London after it’s built.”

“Yeah.” Rex had already started negotiations with the city to tear down a decrepit neighborhood that was ravished by a fire a couple of years back.

Ms. Delagarza handed him a folder. “We previously assessed the area.”

He opened it and flipped through the pages. Details showed mid-priced flats. Pages in the back showed the cost for enclosing the neighborhood and establishing security offices. It was an impressive layout. He paged back looking for plumbing and electrical work. The entire infrastructure needed to be replaced. Projections based on different potential problems were included.

“Torchwood needs to prove it’s worth before we would have the funding to develop the neighborhood.”

“Are you planning to use robots?”

It would be easier, cheaper and saner, but the economy needed the jobs. “No.” 

“We can quickly customize the designs.”

Rex’s mobile rang. “Excuse me a moment.” He walked several feet and answered it. “Matheson.” He listened to one of the craziest situations he’d ever heard of, and it might not even be Torchwood jurisdiction. “Hold on.” He walked back over to Ms. Delagarza. “Ma’am, does your company handle demolitions?”

“Yes,” she said hesitantly.

“Keep everyone back. I will be there as soon as possible.” The call ended. “A controlled detonation collapsed an old underground tunnel or more than one that wasn’t on the city maps. A nearby business was having a janitorial meeting in the basement. Twenty to twenty-five people are trapped. They may or may not be in the tunnel system. The fire department got cameras into the basement and can’t find the people.” He paused. “The city wants a different company to assess the situation and assist in the rescue effort. Unless it’s a Torchwood case.”

She removed her mobile from her purse as he talked. “I need the location.”

 

** (Outside collapsed tunnel area) **

Rex appreciated a smart woman with skills. Ms. Delagarza had a background in construction. She coordinated from the car. By the time they arrived on-site, her assessment team was already discussing the situation with the fire department. She quickly joined the conversation. While they discussed construction and demolition, he contacted Nova Scotia for an additional assessment with drones and robots. Both groups came to the same conclusion.

“It’s an old sewer system,” Ms. Delagarza explained. “Best guess is the maintenance people fled from a safety hazard.”

“Luc,” Rex said, “Can you get mini bots into the basement to check for hazards?”

“Yeah. We’re already reviewing the damage.”

A few minutes later, Eryn came on the line. “Mr. Matheson, you need to evacuate the area. We’re sending in bots to repair the foundation damage. But three buildings are at risk of collapse. If one goes, it could destabilize the other buildings, and cause the equivalent of an earthquake.”

“You can fix this?” Ms. Delagarza asked quietly.

“Potentially.”

“Your robots?”

“Yeah.”

She took a moment. “That’s amazing.”

He nodded in agreement although the amazing part would come later when the Canadian team organized an underground grid search to map the underside of London and check for additional problems. Even if it wasn’t a Torchwood situation, they had the technology to review structural problems and make repairs.

“Sir, we found the missing people. We are going to breach an alley for surface access outside the danger zone. We need to send in robots to assist, but we have no way of warning the people. Luc’s current designs resemble Terminators.”

“I will have to go down. How are we getting people out?”

Luc returned to the phone. “We’re working on that. The quickest design is a robotic elevator using a full-size maintenance bot and ladder like sides that would act as reinforcements. Anyone requiring a backboard will need to be placed upright to fit.”

“How many injured?”

“Twenty-one people need to go to the hospital,” Eryn said sadly. “Two to the morgue.”

 

Rex reassessed his boring office job as he prepared to ride a makeshift elevator into an underground area destabilized by a poorly executed demolition. Crazy stunts were Jack’s specialty. While he had a portal device, and Miracle Day resulted in a duplication of Jack’s immortality, he preferred saner tactics.

The Delagarza crew found him utility clothes and a hard hat with a light attached to it. One group of firefighters offered boots in his size. A constable offered him a large flashlight. Emergency services collected backboards unsure of how many they needed. Rex hoped since the survivors had to walk most of them were able to stand or sit on the bot. 

“Have you done this before?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Call me Davy.”

“Rex.” He smiled. “Torchwood requires improvising.” 

That was an understatement he thought as he looked over the edge of the hole. The maintenance bot being used as a lift looked a giant Roomba vacuum cleaner. He tested it with his foot. An ear com hung off the bar. He quickly placed it in his ear before stepped onto the lift. He gripped the safety bar as it descended into the ground.

He thought of a book cover he’d seen years ago showing Anubis in a London subway tunnel. With his luck, it was a Torchwood situation. Neverwhere, he thought, remembering the title. If there was something under London, he doubted it was the Mad Hatter and a tea party. 

“Follow the lit mini bots, sir,” Eryn said through ear com.

Rex stepped off the lift and followed the dim lights forward. He heard voices a few minutes later. Until he saw them, he forgot he was rescuing maintenance workers. They wore utility clothes, boots and a few had hard hats. They’d used duct and electrical tape to bind injuries and piping for splints.

“Follow the lights. The lift is like a carnival ride. Stand in the middle and hold onto the bar. Anyone who cannot stand or sit on the lift will be brought up on a backboard.”

He focused on helping those struggling to carry someone and didn’t realize not everyone was leaving. One woman with a taped arm was riding up and down the lift like an operator. Others were helping their co-workers on and off the lift.

A man in his fifties, with a taped hand, led him back down the escape route. “The bad injuries are in the danger zone.”

“We have stretchers. The robots needed to carry them are scary.”

“You came down here to keep from scaring us?”

“It’s part of the job description.”

The man laughed. “Which department?”

“Torchwood.”

“Lizard men are urban legends.”

Rex groaned. “The city needed the robots to reach you.”

“They should have called sewer and underground workers. No fancy robots needed.”

When the sentinels arrived, they did look somewhat like Terminators. Rex suspected he’d have nightmares. But they easily lifted rubble, moved over uneven ground, and lifted the bulky robotic stretchers over obstacles. The fifty-something shift supervisor followed the last of his people down the tunnel.

Rex shined his light around the area and caught movement. It appeared they’d missed two people. Perhaps they were from a different basement. 

“Dim the light,” a strange, hoarse voice said.

He switched the large flashlight off. 

A shorter man with an odd walk approached carrying a woman in a pants suit. He was bald, dressed in tattered work clothes, and looked somewhat scaly in the dim light. “She has a broken arm and leg.”

Rex tapped the ear com. “We need another stretcher.”

“She brings me food, and I make sure she gets to her car safely at night.”

Lizard man, Rex thought. “You live down here?”

“Yeah.”

When it arrived, the man carefully set her down. “Her ex will try to bother her at the hospital.”

Rex wondered about his job some days. “Do you have food, if she can’t bring it?”

The man shook his head. 

“I will meet you tonight at the parking garage.” Rex described the nearest one he could think of. “Any requests?”

“No ham.”

 

Rex watched the last person loaded into an ambulance. He needed a shower and figured he could get back to his apartment quickly. Then he'd review reports from Nova Scotia and the hospital. As he wasn’t mentioning the urban legend, it wasn’t Torchwood jurisdiction. He would present all the information to the city investigators. They could figure out how a license construction company messed up that badly.

“Local gossip says you’re an office manager,” Davy said.

“Officially.”

Davy smiled. “Maybe we can have lunch sometime.”

Rex could only guess she liked men who weren’t afraid of hard work. He looked and smelled like he crawled through a sewer. “Yeah.”

When Rex returned for his clothes, one of Delagarza’s crew offered him water and soap to clean up with and clean utility clothes. He appreciated it. He would have ruined his suit otherwise.

His mobile rang as he started the car. “Matheson.” He listened as Jack explained Brighton. “You did what?!”


	5. Matthew Rafferty

** Torchwood Nova Scotia; Truro, Nova Scotia, Canada **

Matthew Rafferty sat on the floor in his room with his back to a corner wondering about his life. He understood it before Atmore. The world and culture changed in unexpected ways in almost thirty years. He often forgot that homosexuality became more acceptable while he was gone. Then he’d see gay men kissing in public, or a cute man would openly flirt with him. It made him sad thinking of the friends he’d lost. If life had been kinder, they could have lived to see a world that accepted them.

Hours before Atmore took him, his boyfriend died. One of the nurses smuggled him into the hospital room every night. Dennis’ family refused to acknowledge he was gay. His mother went so far to demand the hospital have Matt arrested for trespassing if he walked past Dennis’ room. When he first got sick, his father went on a rant about AIDS. It was some type of genetic problem. The nurse didn’t know the details, and Dennis never explained.

His parents hadn’t been much better. He lost count how many times they told him he was going to Hell if he didn’t repent. His older sister thought he needed a psychiatrist. His brother at least tried to understand. The irony of his sister’s self-righteousness was she divorced and was incapable of taking care of her kids. His brother’s girlfriends helped him care for them. 

The intercom clicked. “Matt,” Eryn said, “Captain Harkness is asking to speak to you.”

Matt stood. “Where?”

“Kailen’s office. We’re on a conference call.”

Matt thought about relocating again as he left his room. He made Liam nervous. That made Dublin a bad idea. Cardiff, from what he’d heard, was open-minded. A change of scenery could help. He loved Canada, but that life was gone. It wouldn’t make him feel less of an impostor for creating a fake background. He would have to lie about who he was and where he came from for the rest of his life. That thought depressed him more than anything. 

He stepped through the door. The twins, Aman and Luc, were there. They were a family unit and didn’t realize it. Matt suspected Hana would return to Nigeria sooner or later. Eryn tried, but they saw the world in fundamentally different ways. 

“How can I help?”

“How would you like to live in England,” Jack said.

Matt took a moment. “London?”

“No. We have a new facility near Brighton. Your educational background would be beneficial.”

“Why does Torchwood need a cultural anthropologist in England?”

“It’s complicated.”

 

** Path of Tangled Briers Retreat; north of Brighton, England **

Matt arrived by portal device. He doubted that would ever seem normal. Not that anything involving Torchwood did. Being asked to take over administration of a cult was an example of that. From what he knew of high-risk victims being targeted by unethical researchers, it made a kind of bizarre sense. The new Torchwood shelter programs wouldn’t attract everyone at risk. Different people needed different approaches.

“Thanks for joining us.”

On seeing Jack Harkness for the first time, Matt could understand the appeal. He’d never been drawn to gorgeous or dangerous men. Jack was both.

“What is it you need me to do?”

Jack motioned him into a building adjacent to the car park. “We need to re-purpose this organization.”

Matt understood that much.

“We need to create programs that help people. They have established options, but the motivation was discovering psychic abilities and exploiting anyone who walked through the door with wealthy families.”

“Why me?”

“Cultural anthropologists have a better understanding of how religions and cultures are created. There are people here that need a controlled environment. They wouldn’t agree to a hospital or conventional treatment. Unless they want it, it won’t work.”

“You want me to con people into getting help?”

“No. They’re conning themselves. We just need to keep them safe.”

 

Unsure of what was needed, Matt found a place to sit. From the conversations he overheard, the cult had been given a new divine figure, and they were trying to decide who would be the new prophet. It sounded wrong for many reasons. Unfortunately, he had no alternative ideas.

“Matt.” 

Another gorgeous, dangerous man, Matt thought. Except this one reminded him of Aman. How many Brazilians lived in South Africa? 

“I’m Azrael.”

The man capable of killing biomechs and scaring Luc. 

“Idrissa believes you have a psychic ability.”

“I don’t.”

Azrael took a moment. “You had a noticeable effect on Idrissa, Liam, and Kailen.”

“I make cute gay men nervous.”

Azrael laughed. “You allow people to see parts of themselves they keep hidden.”

Right. “How does this magic affect you?”

“I’m not human.”

Matt wondered what that meant. “What are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“How?”

Azrael’s appearance flickered like a hologram. “I died.”

“Idrissa’s husband.” 

“Yes.”

Matt tried to remember the details. “You sacrificed yourself to save the world.” He paused. “Why did you choose the angel of death?”

“I kill people.” Azrael sounded like he realized something.

“Then why are you here?”

“Jack asked.”

Matt nodded. “To help people.”

Azrael flickered again.

“If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where you be?”

“At home at the Fellowship.”

“With you husband,” Matt concluded. “That sounds very human.”

“Thank you.” Azrael disappeared.

Jack entered the room a moment later considering something. He must have overheard the conversation. Matt wondered if it had been some type of test. He reviewed the conversation in his mind. Another thought came to mind. His background in cultural anthropology would work for planning and observe. Jack didn’t want an administrator.

“You want me to be the new cult leader.”

Jack nodded. “Azrael is a future version of Aman from another universe. He was manipulated by a psychic. He’s an emotionally scarred demi-god who believed himself to be unredeemable before he met you.” He gave it a moment. “You gave a man hope that no psychiatrist can treat. His only chance is to forgive himself.”

“I’m not a psychic.”

“You’re a healer.”


	6. Jack Harkness

** Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales **

Jack Harkness returned home wondering if Matt affected him. A memory resurfaced while he was discussing the facility with Yasmin, Azrael’s choice for administrator. The paths he’d walked and decisions he made started with one horrifying event. Sadistic aliens attacked t he Boshane Peninsula , and he let go of Gray’s hand while they were running. There were only children. There was nothing he could have done for his brother. That impossible, unforgivable moment led him to a time and place where he protected strangers from horrors they didn’t understand and were unable to defend against.

Ianto stepped out of the nursery carrying Michael. The changes Other Keara made offered a chance at redemption. Jack had a second chance at a healthy relationship. Meeting the general showed him the long-term consequences of being a bad father. 

“What?” Ianto asked.

“You’re gorgeous.” Jack smiled.

Ianto nodded. “What did you do?”

Jack walked over and hugged him.

“You hit your head.”

“Ha ha.”

“Rex called.” Ianto headed for the kitchen. “He wants you in London tomorrow. There was a botched demolition near old sewers that aren’t on city maps. Luc and Kailen found something while mapping the area underground already. Rex also has concerns about the Robards and the retreat.”

“Anything dangerous?”

“No.”

Jack said, “We can spend the day in London tomorrow, stay over night, and drive back.”

“Gwen and Rhys had problems with Michael the last time he stayed with them.”

“All three of us can go.”

Ianto stepped back out of the kitchen and stared at Jack. “What were you hit in the head with?”

“You want to go shopping.” Jack walked over to him again. “Bedding, baby stuff.”

“You’ll be bored.”

“Not with you there.”

 

** Temporary Torchwood Office; London, England **

Jack suspected there was more going on as he stepped into Rex’s office. They could have discussed anything Ianto mentioned on the phone. Rex could have easily used a portal device to visit Cardiff although Anwen had his profile flagged and anytime it was fixed she changed it back.

“Shut the door.”

Jack did before cross the room. “What’s wrong?” He claim a chair across from Rex.

“The sewer tunnel situation wasn’t an accident. Someone altered the demolition company’s explosives to increase the charge.”

“Terrorism?”

“No.” Rex handed him pictures. “There is something in that sewer system.”

Jack looked at the pictures. It looked like a vault with symbols on it. “How did you find this?”

“A new friend.”

“Ianto’s good with research. He might know what these symbols mean.” Although it looked like a cross. He’d seen the symbol somewhere.

“A Knights Templar cult.”

Jack looked at Rex.

“Davy recognized it. Her company, Delagarza, has found other relics over the years.”

“You showed her these?” Jack wondered.

Rex shook his head slightly. “After I saw them, I asked her if her company had ever dug up anything strange. It’s a generational business. They have pictures and files going back decades. Someone in the family researched it.”

“Templar cults are from movies.”

“That’s what I thought. I found a researcher that specializes in evaluating presumed fraudulent artifacts. He has a lot of records.”

“Why would someone collapse three buildings?”

Rex unrolled sewer schematics over the desk. “It would have given them access to the vault.”

Jack could see that on the map. “I don’t follow.”

“When I was underground yesterday I met a lizard man. I know how that sounds. He was carrying a victim from another building that I didn’t know about. She’s in the hospital and can’t take him food. When I met with him again, he told me there were people in sewers. I had Luc check the area. One of the mini bots was shot with an unknown weapon.”

“Is the vault secured?”

“Yeah. Luc stationed sentinels. I told the lizard man to avoid the area, and if he sees anyone to bring me the information.”

A knock came at the door. Rex rolled up the schematics before the door opened. A lovely lady wearing a blouse and slacks entered the office. “Sorry to bother you. My grandfather had WWII era underground information.”

“Davinia Delagarza, this is Captain Jack Harkness. Davy’s been assisting with research.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Davy set a box of folders on a chair next to the desk. “Are we still on for lunch?”

“Definitely.”

Jack waited until the door closed again. “London’s been good to you.”

Rex groaned. “Get your own woman.”

“Ianto wouldn’t like that idea.” Jack laughed. 

After a brief silence, Rex continued. “The Baron Houghton attack investigation uncovered a connection to Sherburne Robards. Which makes me wonder about the families targeted by the retreat.”

“John is looking for additional safes and blackmail material. The current theory is they victimized targets that walked into the retreat.”

“Would your friend Cory know? He’s connected to Houghton and the Robards.”

“No. Check legal cases from about eight years ago for the Robards. Cory will have nothing to do with them under other circumstances.”

 

Jack linked hands with Ianto as they headed out of the office. It was a beautiful day to walk and explore. It had been a long time since he strolled through London. The first time walking with a baby. Michael was mostly quiet in the Snuggli. 

“What’s going on?” Ianto asked.

“What?”

“The trip to London. The walk. You’re acting strange, Jack.”

“After talking to Matt, I realized a few things.” 

Ianto squeezed his hand. “You will be bored out of your mind if we go shopping.”

“We can find a toy store.”

“You’re be as bad as the general.”

“Different kind of toy store.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “You can do that by yourself.”


End file.
